


Kicking Up Dust

by fate_goes_ever



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-05-03 00:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fate_goes_ever/pseuds/fate_goes_ever
Summary: Natya Brosca and Sereda Aeducan are conscripted to the Grey Wardens from Orzammar. Neither of them expected the Blight, and neither of them expected to be one of the only three remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden.





	1. Proving Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [commanderlurker (honeybee592)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/gifts).



The last fight of the Proving lasted the longest.

It was strange, Natya thought, for the Aeducan princess to be fighting in the glory Proving that was held in her honour. It was stranger yet that she didn’t fight the way one expected a royal princess to fight. Instead of going for her opponent straight on, the princess was dancing around Natya, feinting left and right, trying to wear her out. At one point Aeducan even kicked some sand from the floor of the arena into Natya’s eyes. It was the kind of fighting one expected from a Dust Town street rat, not a noble. Honestly, it was kind of impressive.

It didn’t matter though. Natya Brosca had grown up fighting for her life since she first drew breath and choked on the dust, and she was not going to be worn out by some princess in pretty gilded armour.

When she pointed her sword at the princess’s throat their eyes met, for just a second. Aeducan looked stunned. Then she looked Natya up and down, head to toe, and beneath her helmet Natya would have sworn she could see one corner of her mouth curl in a smile.

Then, of course, Natya was commanded to remove her borrowed helmet, and it all went to nugshit.

 

The next hours were full of fighting, more fighting, blood and death. When Natya and Leske were stopped before they could even get back to Dust Town, she wasn’t even surprised. If there hadn’t been some kind of commotion in the Diamond Quarter, she was sure they would have been killed on the spot. As it was, everyone seemed unsure of who was in charge, and the Grey Warden she had spotted at the Proving Grounds managed to conscript her without too much fuss. 

“Why don’t you conscript Leske too?” Natya asked. “He’s as good a fighter as me, and his life is forfeit if he stays. We just killed the leader of the Carta, all right? He won’t just get away scot-free.”

“If he is as skilled as you say, he will survive,” Duncan replied. “But the Grey Wardens need a certain kind of person, someone who won’t give up when the odds are stacked against them. You have that quality, I can see that quite clearly. Him, I don’t know about.”

Humans, Natya thought. They thought they knew everything about Orzammar because they’d spent a few hours in the Commons, and had had a poke around the Deep Roads. They had no idea what Dust Town was like, or how dangerous the Carta could be. If the Grey Warden hadn’t excused himself to do something in the Deep Roads, she might well have given him a piece of her mind.

“Take the next few hours to gather your things and say farewell to your family,” Duncan commanded. “Wait for me in the Hall of Heroes. Be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

Natya rolled her eyes at his naivete and went to speak to her family. No guards, no chains, just an order to wait? If it hadn’t been for the inevitable revenge of the Carta, she would have taken the opportunity to slip away. Still, it seemed like she had a chance to finally leave Dust Town, so she packed a bag of whatever meagre possessions she had and hugged Rica.

“Be careful, all right? Whoever this noble is you’ve bagged, his position might not be as stable as you think. There were rumours of a royal betrayal when I left the Commons,” Natya told her sister.

Rica beamed back at her. “Oh, don’t worry. My love will take good care of me. You, though, don’t go running into danger, all right? There are all sorts of rumours about the Grey Wardens, and Bhe- my love says there might be a Blight brewing.”  
Natya scoffed. 

“What, a Blight? Honestly, Ri, if it came down to it, who would you bet on in a fight – me, or a bunch of Darkspawn?”

Rica laughed and hugged her again. Then Kalah made some bitter noises about how Natya was never any help and just like her leaving father. Natya spat at her feet. 

“Bye, mother. Try not to drown in your own vomit.”

 

The Hall of Heroes was full of statues of Paragons. There hadn’t exactly been any kind of school in Dust Town, and the only reason Natya even knew how to read was because Beraht paid for a tutor for Rica, and Rica had taught her. 

She whiled away the time by reading the names of the Paragons and the reason they had been made Paragons, and when Duncan still didn’t show up, she spent some time carefully picking a favourite. There was Astyth the Grey, of course, whom every female warrior prayed to. Natya had seen the Silent Sisters in the Proving Grounds, and if it hadn’t been for the time constraints, she might have considered bedding one of them. One of the novices, of course, because the lack of a tongue... But Varen, who was made Paragon for discovering that nugs were edible, was another one she liked. Nug was a rare delicacy in Dust Town, no matter how many there were running around. You could get far more meals for the cost of a nug than the actual nug contained. But they had splurged sometimes, when they had the money, and nothing in Orzammar could compare to the taste of nug fry.

She was trying to choose between Astyth and Varen when Duncan finally showed up. He wasn’t alone, though – he had a dwarven woman wearing guard armour in tow.

“Changed your mind about recruiting me?” Natya said.

“Hmm? Oh, no – this is your fellow new recruit, Sereda Aeducan.”

Natya stared. Aeducan removed her helmet. She looked pale and tired, blood streaked on her cheek and dirt in her short hair, but she smiled impishly at Natya and winked.

“The Aeducan princess?” Natya asked, feeling as though the Stone had suddenly rolled over under her feet and left her hanging from the ceiling. “You conscripted the Aeducan princess? I didn’t know Grey Wardens were required to have a death wish.”

“I’m not the princess any more,” said Aeducan, no longer smiling. “In fact, I don’t even think I’m an Aeducan. I’m just Sereda now.”

Natya stared some more. None of what Aeducan – Sereda – was saying made any sense. 

“Right,” she said finally. “Well – welcome to the rabble.”

“If you’re quite finished,” Duncan said, “I believe we should leave Orzammar while we have the light. I’d Like to get some way down the Frostbacks today before making camp.”

Duncan led them toward the grand door that separated Orzammar from the surface. When they drew close one of the guards spat on the floor and muttered something at them. Natya glared at him reflexively, sure that it was the brand on her cheek that had caused the guard to react in such a way. But then her ears caught up with her brain: he had muttered “traitor”, and when she checked, the guard was very much glaring at the princess – Sereda – and not her.

Natya looked at Sereda. She was holding her head high and looking past the guard as though he was below her notice, but there was an unhappy wrinkle in her brow and she was clutching harder than necessary at her helmet. 

Natya opened her mouth to ask what this was all about, but then the door opened and she saw the sky for the first time. If she had felt strange before, this was a thousand times more strange. The sharp light felt like it was cutting her eyes, and everything was so blue and far away. There seemed to be no limit to how far it went, no boundaries to work with. Natya clutched at a nearby wall of comforting stone and felt her knees shake.

“Ancestor’s sodding tits,” she heard, and when she looked Sereda was staring at the sky and swinging gently back and forth on her heels. Natya grabbed her arm to steady her, and earned a grateful look.

“I’ve been told the outside world can come as a shock the first time,” Duncan agreed. “I hear it passes. Take a moment, I’ll need to barter for some supplies.”

Natya sat down on the steps, heedless of the guards’ exasperated looks, and tried to breathe slowly and regularly. Sereda followed her example and wrinkled her nose.

“What’s that smell?” she asked.

“I think they call it fresh air,” Natya replied.

“I don’t like it,” Sereda muttered. 

This startled a laugh out of Natya. She slapped Sereda on the shoulder and chuckled. 

“Better get used to it, princess. I don’t think we’ll be welcomed back to Orzammar any time soon.”


	2. To Ostagar

Duncan kept to his plan, and they were well on their way down the mountains before dark fell. That was another thing about the surface – dark and light wasn’t planned for and easily controlled, but fluctuated based on the time of day. Natya’s first sunset was an underwhelming thing, the sun simply disappearing bit by bit. By the time it was completely gone, they had set up a small camp consisting of two tents next to a fire. 

“You’ll have to share,” Duncan explained. “Accommodations can be rudimentary on the road, so it’s best you get used to that right away. And while the rest of the Wardens will have set up a more permanent camp at Ostagar, space is always limited. It’ll be best all around if the two of you can get along well enough to continue sharing even after we arrive.”

Natya shrugged and made no comment. The hovel she had shared with Rica and Kalah in Dust Town wasn’t exactly huge, so she was well used to keeping herself contained. She almost expected an objection from Sereda, but she, too, just nodded and ate her stew.

Duncan took the first watch, so when Natya entered the tent, Sereda was already inside, in the midst of removing her armour. She was more muscled than her style of combat would indicate, Natya noted. If she had relied on her strength more at the Proving, gone straight for the kill, she might have won.

“How come I beat you?” Natya found herself asking before she could stop herself.

Sereda looked up. “What?”

“At the Proving,” Natya clarified. “You look so strong, why didn’t you use that strength to overpower me?”

A smile tugged at Sereda’s mouth. “You think I look strong?”

Natya shrugged, annoyed. “I have eyes. So why didn’t you?”

“I was trying to prove to Trian that I could fight with a sword. Truth is, I much prefer daggers and a good, dark shadow. With swords, there’s all that parrying and the tip of it is always going wherever it likes. Who knows, if I had been using my daggers...” She sighed. “Of course, I had to leave my favourite set behind.”

Natya eyed her again. “You might have done well in the Carta, you know. You’re big enough to scare people, but sneaky enough to get the jump on them before they realise what’s going on.”

Sereda laughed, pulling off her final piece of armour and ruffling her short hair.

“So you were fighting in the Provings for the Carta, then? I confess I don’t entirely understand how that was supposed to work.”

Natya sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way at all. Boss had a bet riding on one of the fighters, so he sent us to fix the match – but then the man was dead drunk, so I had to take his place.”

“You fight well,” said Sereda. “Your style – it’s not conventional, but it’s certainly effective. Where did you learn?”

“I grew up in Dust Town. You either learn to fight, find someone to do the fighting for you, or you die young.”

Sereda nodded, but didn’t reply. The silence felt awkward.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Natya asked. “That I’m a casteless brand?”

“What? No, of course not.”

Natya snorted. “Nothing ‘of course’ about it.”

“Look,” said Sereda. “I’ve never been to Dust Town. I know I can’t possibly imagine what it must have been like there. But I know the casteless are treated unfairly, and I had all these plans to change that if the Assembly picked me instead of Trian. That’s not going to happen, now... I was thinking about what you said, that you either learn to fight or find someone to do the fighting for you. You meant noble hunters, didn’t you?”

“Yeah..?”

“I think it’s wrong that the only way out of poverty is for casteless to essentially prostitute themselves. Noble hunters are forced to risk creating a child, another mouth to feed, in the hopes that the child will receive their other parent’s caste. How many people, women, have been thrown back to Dust Town with a child and no way to provide for them? How many nobles have children and grandchildren among the casteless, descendants they despise and oppress? It’s wrong. It’s just.... It’s wrong.”

Natya digested this rant.

“My sister is a noble hunter. She’s caught herself a man, and she seems happy. I never really thought about what would happen if she had a child that wasn’t a boy... It wasn’t worth it, worrying about something that hadn’t happened yet, that might never happen if we starved to death because of some noble principles.”

“Yes!” Sereda exclaimed. “Exactly! You cannot change the system, you can only try to improve your lot within it. Which means the change has to come from the top! And I was going to do it, I had the support of at least a couple of Assembly members, and I was working on the others. But now it’s all ruined, and it’s going to go on just the way it always has, and I can’t do a thing to stop it!” 

She threw herself down onto her bedroll with a huff of frustration, and Natya boggled at her. There would be, it seemed, a lot of confused staring in her future. This royal princess was nothing like what she might have expected, had she ever spent any time contemplating royal princesses. What kind of person got this worked up about the world being stupidly unfair? But it was sort of sweet, Natya thought, the way Sereda believed, genuinely believed she would have been able to change centuries of social order within one lifetime.

“Well, hey,” she said tentatively, “we might still be able to do some good as Grey Wardens, right?”

“Right,” Sereda agreed, begrudgingly.

 

It turned out that although royal princesses were probably too refined to snore outright, this former princess did sort of snuffle in her sleep. It didn’t keep Natya awake for too long. Dust Town had rarely been entirely silent, and Sereda’s loud breathing was far preferable to one of Kalah’s drunken rants about how she had been wronged. Natya slept deeply, exhausted by all the sudden changes to her life, and when she woke up, Sereda was already awake.

She was sitting at the opening to the tent, arms clasped around her knees, when Natya finally managed to focus her blurry eyes. Natya had the strangest feeling of being watched – could it be that Sereda had been looking at her?

“Mfergh,” Natya muttered into the coat that was doubling up as a pillow.

“Not a morning person?” Sereda asked, smiling.

“S’too bright,” Natya groaned. “Turn down the whatsit. Thingy. Sun.”

Sereda laughed. “You’ll have to ask Duncan for the trick to that. And speaking of Duncan, he made breakfast.”

Natya rolled over to her back and looked at the mottled roof of the tent. She had the strangest feeling she had forgotten something.

“Was I supposed to do something yesterday?”

“This morning, technically,” Sereda replied. “You had third watch, remember? I tried to wake you, but you just mumbled something about griffon saddles and went back to sleep.”

Natya bolted upright. “Oh, Ancestors, I’m so sorry! You should have just given me a good shove, it’s the only way to wake me. Did you get any sleep at all?”

“I’ll manage,” Sereda replied, smiling. “Did you dream about riding a griffon?”

Natya blushed. “I don’t remember. Probably?”

Duncan called for them, and Natya found herself hurrying into her clothes and out of the tent. They received a bowl of porridge each, and a cup of something dark and foul-smelling.

“Ugh,” Sereda said, wrinkling her nose. “What is this?”

“Coffee,” Duncan replied. “It’s a Rivaini drink, even better than tea at keeping you awake. I thought the two of you might need it.”

Natya ate quickly and efficiently, still mostly too asleep to taste anything. The drink she gulped down in a few swallows. It burned her tongue, but tasted far better than it smelled. By the time they’d packed up the camp and started walking, she felt awake enough to note each blade of frost-tipped grass.

“That drink you gave us,” she asked Duncan. “Is it a magical potion? Because I feel awake. Really awake. Normally this doesn’t happen for hours.”

“It’s not a potion,” Duncan replied, amused. “Though some do believe it is magical, it’s really just the ground up roasted beans of a plant. Anyone can make it. If you like, I’ll show you how to grind the beans tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, in order to see that, you’ll have to be awake.”

Sereda laughed so loud at that, the sound made a whole flock of birds take flight.

 

Ostagar was not what Natya had imagined. She had pictured a grand palace which was also a functional fortress, the kind of buildings she had heard about from members of Deep Roads-expeditions. Ostagar was not that. It was a crumbling ruin, overgrown and crowded with amassed armies. 

“Look at that bridge,” she hissed to Sereda, trying not to be overheard. “One good hit and we’ll be cut off from the other side! Can a legion even cross all at once without risk? Couldn’t they have found somewhere more sturdy?”

“Shh!” Sereda whispered back. “Don’t be rude! Humans build things differently. And it’s not like they could tell the darkspawn to move their horde just a few leagues south, thanks ever so much.”

Duncan told them to find an Alistair, so they wandered around the camp. An injured dog took a liking to Sereda. As she kneeled beside the dog, petting its head carefully, Sereda turned to look at Natya with exaggerated pleading eyes.

“I like him,” she said. “Can we conscript him?” She pouted and fluttered her eyelashes until Natya laughed.

“We’ll ask Duncan,” Natya promised.

Once they had looked everywhere else, they finally came across a harried mage apparently taking offence to a knight.

“Here I thought we were getting along so well! I was even going to name one of my children after you,” the knight quipped. “The grumpy one.”

“I like him,” Natya told Sereda. “Can we conscript him?”

“I think he’s Alistair. So no need, probably?”


	3. Betrayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Ostagar, the Wardens deal with their new situation.

Natya’s head hurt. Had she been in a particularly rough fight recently? She’d have to sneak some of Kala’s emergency hangover potions and hope she didn’t notice. But no, she wasn’t at home any more, was she? That’s right, because of the Provings, and Duncan, and the Grey Wardens.

The Grey Wardens.

Natya opened her eyes and was met with the sight of a rather modest but very nice cleavage. She scrambled backwards rapidly and managed to bang heads with the person to whom the cleavage belonged.

“Ow! Ancestors.”

Cradling her head, she heard a stream of foreign-sounding words which were nevertheless clearly curses. Natya looked up and realised that the person cursing was Morrigan, the younger Witch of the Wilds. Judging from the bandages strewn over the bed, she had been tending to Natya’s wounds when she had been unexpectedly headbutted. 

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Obviously not,” Morrigan snapped. “Nevertheless, you did. A fine thanks I receive, for nursing you back to health!”

“I really am sorry. You nursed me back to health? Um. How did you find me? And – what about the others?” Natya asked.

“You Grey Wardens!” Morrigan said, sounding exasperated. “So eager to stay together! Very well. The other two Wardens who were with you in the Tower of Ishal are alive, unlike the soldier. You yourself were the closest to death when Flemeth brought you here. Truly, it is a miracle you still live, given that neither my mother nor I are much given to the healing arts.”

“Right,” said Natya, wincing as another pang of pain shot through her head. “Thanks for that, really appreciate it, do you happen to have any pain potions lying around?”

Morrigan rose and returned with a potion smelling of herbs. As Natya uncorked the bottle and downed it in one, Morrigan peered curiously at her, a wicked glint in her eye.

“I have heard tell that people who have been hit in the head sometimes don’t recover their faculties. Am I to believe that is the cause of your ill manners?”

The pain in Natya’s head receded and she sighed in relief. She could feel other wounds across her body, but they were nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. Now that her head no longer throbbed in time with her heartbeat, she felt she could finally think clearly.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” she replied. “I’ve been hit in the head and am looking at a beautiful woman, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” She threw in a wink for good measure and thought she saw Morrigan begin to blush as she turned away with a scoff.

Natya might have persisted with the flirtation – human women presented an exciting novelty in the form of excellent proportions, very practical for someone with the build of a dwarf – if the sound of an argument getting heated hadn’t begun to filter in from outside the hut. Morrigan turned back towards her and they both listened silently for a moment.

“Ah. That,” said Morrigan finally. “They have been doing that ever since the man woke up.”

Natya sighed and began to drag her various aching appendages off the bed. “Well, now is as good a time as any for me to stop sleeping the day away. Did any of my armour survive the battle?”

 

 

When Natya stepped outside, still fastening a leather strap that hadn’t recovered well from being soaked in ogre blood, Sereda caught sight of her and fell silent immediately. Alistair, who had his back turned, kept going.

“-and I’ve only been a Warden a few months longer than you two. They don’t teach you anything about leadership in the first months! You should do it, at least you have some experience.”

“Alistair,” said Sereda. “Look.”

“Morning,” said Natya. Alistair finally spotted her and gasped.

“You’re awake!” he exclaimed. “Thank the Maker. I thought you were dead for a moment there.”

Natya managed a fairly convincing smirk. “What, you think one puny ogre could end me? Not a chance. It’ll take at least an archdemon or two.”

Sereda had been inching closer, and now she raised her hands to turn Natya’s face this way and that, inspecting her for injuries. Natya was too surprised to think of stopping her. It felt kind of nice, having a warm, calloused pair of hands cradle her aching head so gently. 

She suddenly missed Rica so much it hurt.

“That’s enough,” Natya said, pulling reluctantly out of Sereda’s grasp. “Now, will one of you tell me what you were arguing about?”

“We need to decide what to do next, and I think that responsibility falls to Alistair as the most senior of our Order,” Sereda said. She was still tracing Natya’s face with her eyes.

“And I think that’s nugwash,” Alistair interrupted. “I may know a bit more about the Grey Wardens than you two, but this is an entirely different situation than before the – before Ostagar. Now, all our brothers and sisters are gone, and thanks to Loghain we are the only Grey Wardens in Ferelden. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do! I just know we have to do something.” 

By the end of his tirade Alistair was breathing heavily and sort of looking like he wanted to punch someone – or something. Instead, he crossed his arms and scowled as Sereda turned back to him, as exasperated as she had seemed before she caught sight of Natya.

“You must have some ideas!” Sereda insisted. “What about those documents we were sent to find? Couldn’t we use them to gather people to fight with us?”

“Yes, all right,” Alistair snapped back. “But there’s also Loghain and whatever is going on with him to consider. Do you think he’ll be happy to hear that a group of Grey Wardens are going around, gathering an army and telling people he murdered the king? Oh, I’m sure he’ll just love that. He’ll probably organize a banquet in out honour.”

Natya sighed. The stabbing headache from before was beginning to make a comeback, despite the potion she had taken earlier. What she wouldn’t give, at the moment, to be back in Orzammar where the problems were at least familiar. She was still growing accustomed to the surface, to bright, blinding lights, and the lack of a Carta boss barking orders at her, but this... She might even consider returning home to continue her life of crime if only she could get rid of the archdemon and the murderous general in the bargain.

There was a thought. 

“So, to sum things up,” Natya said, “we are wanted by the authorities and have to fend for ourselves. We also have to earn the goodwill of whoever is capable of helping us end the Blight. If we work very hard and are really lucky, we might be able to bring the father of the queen, a Fereldan national hero, to justice for his crimes.”

She considered the picture she had painted for a moment. It was unlikely they would succeed, certainly. They would all be dead by the end of it if they tried, probably. At the very least, there would be a lot of pain, horror, and hard work before they saw any kind of happy ending.

She smiled wryly to herself. Just another Tuesday, in other words.

“All right,” she said. “As the only professional criminal in our little group, I think I’ve got exactly the experience we need in this situation. And the first thing my instinct tells me is that we need to leave, as soon as possible. Never stick around the scene of the crime, so to speak. Also, we need to reach the people mentioned in those treaties before the darkspawn do. So gather your things, friends. Maybe go behind a corner, because I doubt darkspawn will hesitate to kill you with you breeches around your ankles.”

A silence met her little speech. Natya did her best to meet the gazes of her comrades in arms and exude confidence. It seemed to work, too, because eventually Sereda unbent enough to nod. Alistair glanced at her, and seemed to breathe out in relief. “Yes, ser,” he said jokingly, and so they began to pack up their things.

 

 

The only surprise came when they were about to leave, and Flemeth announced that Morrigan was to go with them. Not just to guide them out of the Korcari Wilds, either, but for the duration of their quest.

“No offence, said Natya,”really, we’re very grateful for everything you’ve done. But we’re trying to keep a low profile and I feel like dragging around a – what’s it called, Alistair?”

“Apostate,” Alistair supplied.

“Right, yes, an apostate. I just don’t think it’ll help us blend in, you know?”

“Hah!” Flemeth said. “You have a very high opinion of yourself, ser dwarf, if you think you are in a position to turn down an ally.”

“She has a point,” Sereda pointed out. “No doubt we will encounter mages in out travels. It might be useful to have one who’s on our side.”

“On our side, sure,” Alistair muttered. Natya ignored him.

“Fine,” she said. “But we are not leasing her services from you. This endeavour works purely on a volunteer basis, and as such Morrigan will not be entitled to more than her fair share of any money or goods we may come into possession of in the course of our travels.”

Flemeth cackled in her unsettling way. “I am not interested in wealth, little Warden. If you end the Blight, you can keep all the gold you find.”

“As long as we’re clear about that,” Natya said. She spit in her hand and extended it for a shake, but was met with only a disgusted groan from Morrigan and an amused look from Flemeth. Shrugging, she hauled up her pack and turned away from the hut and towards the Imperial Highway.

 

 

They made it out of the forest itself an onto an actual rode before anything interesting happened. There was a rustling and suddenly a dog was loping towards them. It wagged its stump of a tail, then turned and growled. Following its gaze, Natya saw a group of darkspawn. The largest and most heavily armoured of them grinned and mimed slicing her throat, which seemed to be as much as they ever spoke.

Natya sighed, shouted at Morrigan to stay back lest she touch the Blighted blood of the darkspawn, and charged. Darkspawn were easy to fight, she had discovered, because they had no concept of strategy. They seemed so focused on killing anyone they came across that they didn’t think to set traps or split up so others could attack from the rear.

She wondered, hacking away at the big ugly one, if they thought at all. Did they have a language in which to communicate, or were they simply puppets for the archdemon? But then, that suggested they would only have a purpose during a Blight, which was clearly untrue because the Deep Roads were always teeming with them. And where did they come from, anyway? They could be children of the Stone. Even casteless, who were supposedly rejected by the Stone, were clearly dwarves and not darkspawn – so how..?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the realisation that there was nothing left to fight. Panting lightly, she lowered her sword and looked around. Alistair was dragging the darkspawn corpses into a heap, which Morrigan seemed to be coaxing into flames. Sereda had dropped to her knees in front of the dog, and was wiping blood off its face.

“You’re a very brave dog,” she was telling it in a delighted voice. “You came to warn us about the darkspawn, didn’t you? Yes, you did. Good dog!”

Strange, Natya thought. “How did it know we were here?” she asked aloud.

“I think it’s the one we met at Ostagar. Remember, we got that man those flowers so he could cure it?” Sereda said.  
“I think she was out there looking for you,” said Alistair. “She’s... chosen you. Mabari are like that. They call it imprinting.”

Morrigan, naturally, wasn’t pleased.

“Does this mean we’re going to have this mangy beast following us about?” she asked. “Wonderful.”

“She’s not mangy!” Alistair and Sereda exclaimed at the same time. They exchanged a startled glance.

“Anyway,” Sereda continued, “it’s not you she’s imprinted on. I say she would make a fine addition to our party. We can’t afford to be choosy, remember?”

“Still true,” Natya allowed. “and if it’s going to follow you around anyway, we might as well make the best of it. Maybe you can teach it some commands or something?”

“Mabari are surprisingly clever,” Alistair said. “I think as long as she knows you’re talking to her, she’ll follow orders like any soldier.”

“She’ll need a name, then,” Sereda murmured. “What do you think, hmm? What are you? Vala? Hespith? Bheyla?”

“She’s a female fighter, right? And she’s sort of grey-brownish. What about Astyth?” Natya suggested.

Sereda laughed. “Astyth the Grey! Oh, you’re right, I can see that. Very well, little Paragon. Well call you Astyth.”

The mabari woofed, and Natya took a surprised step backwards.

“How clever did you say these things were?” she muttered to Alistair. He just laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun things to google: "does Thedas have Tuesdays".


	4. Loitering in Lothering

Lothering was a mess. It was overrun with panicked refugees, and bandits prowled at the edges of the village looking for easy profit. The Grey Wardens, Morrigan and Astyth the Mabari ran into a group of bandits masquerading as some sort of tax collectors, and they were such bad liars, Natya didn’t feel particularly bad about killing them.

 

Looking around the improvised camp that had been set up in a field, she thought about the darkspawn horde marching steadily towards the village.

 

“Shouldn’t we tell them to keep moving?” she asked nobody in particular. “This is – not exactly safe.”

 

“I don’t think they can,” Sereda replied. “Look at them, they’re all exhausted, and most of them are injured to boot.”

 

“So? That’s no reason to give up,” Natya argued. “They have to know there’s no army between them and the darkspawn! They should be walking if they can’t run, and crawling if they can’t walk.”

 

“Most of them probably have no idea what darkspawn are like,” Alistair said. “These people would be farmers, villagers, not soldiers. It’s not their fault they can’t endure more.”

 

In Dust Town, there had been some people who seemed to just lose their will to live during particularly hard times. Natya had never understood it. When living got hard, she got angry, and the anger gave her the strength to carry on. She’d sworn she wouldn’t die in Dust Town. The thought of lying down and waiting for monsters to come kill you...

 

“We have to get them out,” she said. “We can find a cart, send the weakest on ahead that way. Surely there’s someone in charge here? Why aren’t they doing anything?” Natya felt a hand squeezing a shoulder, and turned to see Sereda looking at her.

 

“This is one village,” Sereda said, quietly. “I don’t want these people to die, either but – We have to think of the Blight as a whole, Natya. The horde is so close, and the people here are so weak. We could spend every moment we have working to move people on, but many would still die. We would waste our current advantage and risk dying before we could even try to stop the Blight.”

 

“She is right,” Morrigan spoke up. “These people are lost, already. It would be far wiser to gather supplies and head on towards Denerim.”

 

“We could still try to help,” Alistair said, glaring at Morrigan. “Nothing’s stopping us from lending a helping hand if we can. People usually turn to the Chantry in times of strife; maybe someone there could tell us about any rescue efforts.”

 

Natya set her jaw and nodded. “All right,” she said. “Sereda, take Morrigan and see if you can find a tavern – they should be able to help us with supplies, and someone there may know something about Loghain. Alistair and I will go to the Chantry. We’ll meet at the highest point in the village when we’re done – that hill, see?”

 

Sereda nodded and let go of Natya’s shoulder as she turned to leave. Natya suddenly realised how long they’d been touching each other. She could feel the warmth of Sereda’s hand on her shoulder despite the leather cuirass between Sereda’s hand and her skin.

 

“You’re blushing,” Alistair sing-songed at her, and she realised she had been staring after Sereda.

 

“No, I’m – it’s a bruise,” she spluttered. “I’m bruised. Shut up. Where’s this Chantry, then?”

 

 

 

The Chantry turned out to be a waste of time. The woman in charge - someone they called Mother, which Natya found particularly ironic – seemed to be fairly useless. Oh, the Revered Mother said she was preparing to evacuate, but looking around Natya couldn’t see any signs of packing. And the more insistent Natya got, the less polite the Mother became. By the time Natya stomped out of the Chantry, she was in a thoroughly bad mood. Harassing a trader into lowering his exorbitant prices for the refugees took some of the edge off, but she was still fuming by the time she and Alistair reached the edge of the village where the hill began.

 

Sereda and Morrigan hadn’t made it up the hill yet, but they had been joined by a woman Natya didn’t recognise. She had bright red hair and a sharp gaze, and she was speaking with Sereda in a low voice.

 

“Who’s your new friend?” Natya called out.

 

Sereda turned around and visibly brightened when she spotted Natya.

 

“Oh! There you are,” she said. “I was just thinking I should talk to you. This is Leliana, I’ll tell you about her later, but first – I think this qunari could turn out useful, but he’s refusing to leave the cage.”

 

Natya turned to look at the cage to which Sereda was gesturing. It was similar to the one she’d seen at Ostagar, obviously built to contain one human prisoner. The man inside, however... He was far bigger than any person Natya had ever met before; so big, in fact, that he was forced to stoop slightly in order to be able to stand upright. His skin was more grayish than the usual brown, and there was something off about his eyes. He was looking straight ahead, seemingly disinterested in the people talking about him.

 

“He’s a qunari? I’ve never met any before. Aren’t they usually much farther North?”

 

“Usually, yes,” said Sereda. “He won’t say much about why he’s here. And just so you know, he apparently killed several villagers. He won’t say why he did that, either.”

 

“He won’t, you say?” Natya caught the man’s gaze and frowned at him. His face didn’t change, but neither did he look away. “So. What’s with the silence? Don’t speak the language, or..?”

 

“I speak the language,” the man said. Natya waited for the rest, but apparently he was done talking.

 

“So any particular reason you don’t want to to get out of that cage to fight darkspawn? Or are you just really comfy in there?”

 

“I must atone for my crime.”

 

The anger reared it’s ugly head again. What was it with this village and people giving up on life? Were all Surface villages like this?

 

“Let me see if I’ve got this right. You’re strong and able-bodied, but you’d rather sit in your little cage as the village is slaughtered around you, because that will make up for you killing someone before.”

 

The man’s expression still did not change, and yet it seemed that he was looking at Natya differently. “Either you have an enviable memory, or a pitiable life, to know nothing of regret.”

 

That was the last straw. Natya had been about to boil over for a good long while now, and it seemed like this guy did a better impression of a punching bag than most.

 

“Do not talk to me about regret,” she hissed, stepping up right next to the bars of the cage. “I’ve done stuff you can’t imagine, long before I even joined the Grey Wardens. I know bad choices. You want to rot in this hellhole of a village while me and mine end the Blight? Fine, you do that, and see how much good it does you. But I’m telling you right now – it’s a bad choice, and you’ll regret it.”

 

She glared at him for good measure. She was just about to turn around and leave when the man spoke again.

 

“You are a Grey Warden? My people have heard legends about their strength and skill... Though I suppose not every legend is true.”

 

“Hey!” Alistair objected.

 

“We are Grey Wardens,” Sereda interjected. “If we get you released, you could atone for your crime by fighting with us, couldn’t you?”

 

“I see. Yes, that would be acceptable,” the man said.

 

Natya threw her hands in the air. “Oh, now you agree! Well, glad you’ve made up your mind. Sereda, a word?”

 

Stepping away from the rest of the group, Sereda beamed at her. “Well done! I’ve been trying to talk him around for ages, and you got him to agree just like that.”

 

“Oh,” Natya said, taken aback. “Well. Thanks. I needed to shout at someone, so it’s a good thing it worked out. But do you really think this is a good idea? You said he killed people, and he seems like a jerk.”

 

“I get the impression he didn’t mean to do that,” Sereda said. “He definitely feels terrible about it, so I don’t think he’s usually dangerous. Well, I mean, not to us – but look at the size of him! Imagine the damage he could do if we pointed him at the darkspawn.”

 

“But still – jerk.”

 

Sereda laughed quietly. “Oh, Natya. No, the two of you didn’t get off on the best foot, but I think if you get to know him he’ll turn out to be much less of a jerk, as you say, than you’d think. And it’s not like we can be all that choosy, remember?”

 

“Fine,” Natya sighed. “But even if we decide to add him to the crew – and by the way, you still need to tell me about Leliana – we have to get him out of the cage first. And I sort of burned my bridges with the Revered Mother earlier.”

 

“The Revered – oh, the Chantry chief? Don’t worry about that, Leliana has an in with her. And I can be... Very persuasive.”

 

Natya eyed Sereda over. She didn’t seem to mean that in a suggestive way, but now that Natya was thinking about it, Sereda would probably be pretty good at seduction. With that playful smile of hers, and the way she could cage you in with those strong arms of hers and lean in close...

 

“Um. I bet you can.” Natya coughed, trying to fight the blush she could feel rising. “Well, look – you go free the qunari with this Leliana, and I’ll take Alistair and Morrigan up the Imperial highway a bit, see if we can’t get a bit further before night. All right?”

 

“All right,” Sereda said, and so they parted ways for the second time that day.

 

 

 

It didn’t take them long to reach the road, but before they could travel any distance along it, they had to fight a bunch of darkspawn. The fighting did Natya good. It felt almost as though the village and its miserable people had forced her to curl up in a little ball, whereas drawing her sword and charging the darkspawn stretched her muscles and allowed her to spread out comfortably. The fight was short but satisfying. When the darkspawn lay slain, she made sure to kick each body, just to make sure they were completely done.

 

The darkspawn had been attacking some people when Natya and the others arrived. Now, with the darkspawn gone, their victims were climbing out from behind the various crates and debris that had sheltered them during the fight. They were dwarves, Natya noted with some surprise. She’d never thought much about the fact that there must be dwarves on the surface, too.

 

“Hello there,” she greeted them. “You all right?”

 

There were two of them, both men, but different ages. A master and his apprentice? The older man finished brushing off his fine clothes first, and turned towards Natya. He spotted the brand on her face and took a half-step backwards.

 

“Oh! Ah, yes, we’re fine, thank you. Very kind of you to take on those dreadful things.”

 

Natya sighed. She had hoped that maybe on the surface, people would stop seeing a Carta thug when they first encountered her. It seemed her past wouldn’t let go of her. Then again, back when she worked for the Carta, her job was a very good reason why people might be wary of her. Maybe if she truly wanted a fresh start, it was up to her to make the first move?

 

“No problem,” she said. “I take it you’re merchants? I hope they didn’t mess up your wares too bad.”

 

As soon as the man took another step back, she realised how that might have sounded. Cursing silently, she tacked on “Not that it’s any business of mine.”

 

“We’ll have to take stock of what’s broken or missing, certainly. But the main thing is that my boy and I are safe,” the man said. He had stopped retreating for the moment, so at least that was something.

 

“Yes,” Natya agreed. “Listen, my friends and I are heading further up the Imperial Highway. If you’re heading the same way, we could travel together. Safety in numbers, you know?”

 

The merchant declined her offer. She sighed, but led Alistair and Morrigan away without objections. She had tried, hadn’t she? Perhaps she would get better at appearing non-threatening with time.

 

The travelled further North, only leaving the road when the sky began to darken. Natya and her companions set up camp in a small clearing – or rather, Natya and Alistair put up a couple of tents and built a fire, and Morrigan disappeared into the forest for a while. When she returned, she took one look at their camp site and turned on her heel. Soon enough she had her own fire going a small distance away.

 

“Was it something I said?” Alistair muttered under his breath. Natya chuckled.

 

“Hey, if she wants to keep her distance, that’s fine by me. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to sleeping three to a tent.”

 

“Wouldn’t it have been four? With this chantry sister joining us?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Natya realised. So she and Sereda would have to share with a stranger? “I guess we’ll be three after all. Ooh, but that reminds me – you’ll have to share with the qunari!”

 

“What?! No! What if he kills me in the middle of the night?”

 

Natya rolled her eyes. “You heard him – he was more interested in sitting in his cage than killing. And if Sereda says he should join us, I trust he won’t turn on us.”

 

“Oh well, if _Sereda_ says so...” Alistair teased her.

 

“Not like that!” Natya protested. “I just mean that she seems to be good at reading people.”

 

Alistair made a disbelieving face at her, and would likely had teased her some more if that hadn’t been the moment that Sereda arrived at their makeshift camp.

 

“Hello! Oh good, you’ve got it all set up, excellent!” Sereda said. “So I managed to get the Chantry lady to release Sten, and as you know, Leliana was already joining us.” Out of the darkness behind her the qunari’s white braids appeared from the night, and Leliana slunk out to stand on Sereda’s other side.

 

“Since we’re all set for the night, perhaps it’s time for introductions?”

 

Sereda introduced her recruits in that optimistic way of hers, highlighting their skills and knowledge. Natya made a note to dig into the less pleasant parts of these new companions. She trusted Sereda’s judgement, sure, but she wasn’t actually stupid.

 

“Right,” she said. “Well, let’s get settled for the night. Sten, was it? You can share with Alistair, that tent there. Leliana, you’re with me and Sereda.”

 

Sten scoffed. “Qunari are not so fragile as these Southern humans. I will not be requiring a tent.”

 

Alistair pumped his fist, whispering “Yes!”. Leliana giggled.

 

“Actually, I was prepared for travel already,” Leliana said. “I’ve got a tent of my own, see?”

 

“Oh,” Natya responded. Prepared for travel? What was going on with this woman? “Well, great. Need any help setting it up?”

 

Leliana declined, and so Natya followed Sereda to the tent she had come to think of as theirs. Ducking inside, she started to unbuckle her armour.

 

“What’s up with Leliana?” she asked. “How did she know to be prepared for this?”

 

“Oh, her,” Sereda replied. She was already down to her under-shirt. “She thinks the Maker told her to join us.”

 

“She what?” In her surprise, Natya stopped struggling with the leather strap that had been giving her trouble ever since the ogre. Sereda looked up at her exclamation, then stepped closer. Her hands joined Natya’s at the strap, helping her out of the armour, and Natya suddenly felt breathless.

 

“Yes, I know. It doesn’t exactly make sense... But the way I see it, we can’t exactly complain if the human Maker is on our side, right? And Leliana is clearly a trained fighter. We had some trouble at the tavern, and she dispatched at least as many men as me. That could come in handy.”

 

Natya swallowed. Sereda was so close, helping to peel her out of her leathers. If she just leaned over a bit, Natya could kiss her. Maybe Sereda would touch her face again, gently, like earlier..?

 

That was an unexpected thought. She’d never much gone in for kissing before. In Dust Town, sex tended to be very straightforward, very quick. You never knew when someone would wander in on you. You never knew if they’d take offence, or worse, want to join in. No one wanted to waste any time on gentle face holding. Natya had never seen the point of it before. What had come over her?

 

Whatever it was, the opportunity was gone by the time she came back to herself. Sereda was bedding down on the floor of the tent, sighing tiredly. Natya pulled off her leg guards and lay down next to her. She could feel Sereda beside her, the slight heat emanating from her.

It took her a long time to fall asleep.

 

 

 

There was something evil, and it was looking for her. Natya wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but she could feel something old and terrible searching for her. She opened her eyes, and saw darkness – but no, there were lights moving through the dark, far below, and now she could hear the sound of marching feet as well.

 

There was a flame far too near her to be comfortable, and suddenly the feeling of evil intensified. She turned her head and saw – a dragon? Yes, a dragon, but the dragon was the evil thing that was looking for her. It spit flame in a manner that she could have sworn was triumphant. Then it turned it’s head towards her and screamed, a terrible, dissonant sound.... And it saw her. It SAW her. She was caught, it had found her. The scream of the dragon made her hurt, and she had the terrible feeling that it had won, somehow, that it had succeeded at something.

 

She awoke, gasping for breath. For a moment, she was disoriented – hadn’t she already been awake? Where was the dragon? But then Sereda burst upright beside her in their tent, and Natya realised all at once what must have happened.

 

“Did you just have a dream?” she asked.

 

Sereda was trembling lightly as she looked around. “If I didn’t know it was impossible, I would swear I did.”

 

“I think – I think I just had a dream,” said Natya. “And if you did, too, then... What are the odds of two dwarves waking up from a dream moments apart?”

 

“Did yours have a dragon?” Sereda asked.

 

“Yes,” said Natya. “And darkspawn too, I think. Remember the Joining – could it have something to do with that? Drinking the darkspawn blood?”

 

“Like we’re part darkspawn now, not just dwarves? Eugh. I really hope that’s not it.”

 

Sereda was still trembling. Natya reached over to rest a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Hey, we’re still us. Look at me, right? Do I look like a genlock to you?”

 

Sereda managed a laugh. “No, you’re far too pretty for that. Do you think – if it’s to do with the Joining, maybe Alistair knows what that was?”

 

Natya coughed. Pretty, she thought. No one had called her that before.

 

“Yeah, maybe. Let’s wake him up and ask him, all right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long between updates! Rest assured that the fic has not been abandoned. This chapter was giving me some trouble because it's a sort of bridge between the prologue and the game proper, but now that that's out of the way, I expect the rest will be easier.
> 
> Many thanks to everyone who has commented. I'm so glad to know I'm not alone in this quiet little part of the fandom.


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